He Never Did

Can't Go Back

Six months later
"Hey Stevie," I only allow him a curt nod as I ignore how attractive he looks right now, that silver necklace resting above one of those stupid white v-necks (that leave little to my previously-informed imagination), revealing a triangle of his chest hair. I throw Sulasmith a treat to abide the yelping she's been making since Lindsey rapped on the door.
"Jake is just in the lounge, I'll fetch him for you."
"Hey buddy! What's that?" Lindsey glows, bending down to squeeze Jake in his arms.
"Mommy was teaching me to paint, I painted a picture for you." He passes the painted paper to Lindsey, and I know it's the one displaying little, messy versions of me and Lindsey singing together on stage.
"I love it, I'll put it in my studio so I can look at it when we really are singing." I scoff. There is no chance of me participating in any Fleetwood Mac studio work for a long time, or ever again. When me and Lindsey work together we either fight or fvck, and our last album and tour had resulted in a complete mess of both.
"I have some more in my bedroom, I'll go."
Before I can tell him I'll fetch them, he's sped off and I'm left sitting with Lindsey.
"Uh, how are you?" He asks, nervously smoothing his jeans.
"Great," I answer blankly.
"That's...That's great."
"How is Kristen?"
He laughs.
"She just entered the third trimester, so she's not the most cheerful of creatures."
He casts me an immediate side glance as I focus on two birds sitting on the windowsill, begging my body not to release any tears as I chew my lip.
"Sorry...I'm sorry."
"Really, you don't have to be Lindsey, we're not friends, we're not a couple, so let's just leave it at that."
"Stevie, you know how I f-"
"Don't you dare tell me you love me, you don't get to say those kind of things now."
He turns red, embarrassed and frustrated.
"You don't deserve Kristen either, if she hadn't been pregnant when she found out you were cheating I doubt she'd still give you the time of day."
"You know nothing about our relationship, you've never been in a real one besides with me."
"Oh really? You might want to tell my boyfriend that then, mastermind!"
"Boyfriend?"
"Christ, you sound that a father berating his teenage daughter. My personal life is none of your business." I storm out, meeting Jake on the stairs with an armful of his other pictures.
"Oh be good baby, see you on Sunday evening."
"I promise I'll be good! I love you mommy."
"I love you too Jake." I kiss him goodbye before Lindsey takes his hand and they're gone. Exhausted from my exchange with Lindsey, I drag myself up the stairs, almost stamping over a sheet of paper at the top. I make a mental note to tell Jake not to try and carry so much at once, realising he'd dropped one of his things. Crouching to pick the paper up, I walk into Jake's bedroom- missing him already- turning it over to look, at the picture before leaving it on his little desk.
There's a stick man whose hair looks as if he just stuck his finger in a socket, with a guitar standing to his left.
His arms are around a woman in a flowing, black dress with yellow hair. Between them are a little boy and a tiny dog.
All four of them are enclose by a big, red heart- the misspelt word
'L O V'
in childish block capitals at their feet. I curl into a ball on the carpet, letting out what I'd already felt before seeing this picture.